


I'm Free

by jarediscronchtastic



Series: o n e s h o t s [11]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: AU, Curse AU, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Sad, angsty, one-sided
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 14:27:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19725517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarediscronchtastic/pseuds/jarediscronchtastic
Summary: Suggestion by the lovely ShadowWolfArt <3(Sorry, this took so long, and I tweaked the idea slightly...and that's it's sadder than you probably intended..)Warning: Suicide attempt, blood---Evan Hansen is cursed, which means that with one wrong move, he or someone else could die.





	I'm Free

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShadowWolfArt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowWolfArt/gifts).



So here’s the thing that sucks about being cursed. First of all, nobody takes you seriously if you go around saying ‘I’m cursed!’ Sure, as a kid, people your age laugh and you can play pretend, like some witch cast a spell or something. Adults will scoff and say you’re making it up, or chuckle and think it’s cute. 

Until you turn, like, ten. Then they think something is wrong with you. You want to scream, ‘Yes, something  _ is  _ wrong with me! I’m fucking cursed, did you not listen to me?’ But you don’t, because that will make you end up in some institution. Instead, you keep your mouth shut and act like it was just a game you played as a kid. And then you’re safe. That is until you meet someone and realise, ‘Oh shit. I’m gonna die.’

That’s basically how I felt. For all my life, I was in a panic. I thought that I was gonna meet someone, they weren’t gonna love me back, and I would die. Or, someone was gonna fall for  _ me _ , and I wouldn’t be able to prevent them from dying. That was the shittiest part. And then my mom had an idea. Homeschooling. That way, nobody could get hurt. Oh, brilliant, brilliant idea.

Keep me locked up forever so I couldn’t kill anyone or die by accident. That won’t be a shitty childhood at all! Just a kid and a computer telling him how to add fractions, or what year Columbus tried to get some fancy spices.

And then Mom eventually needed a way to continue making money for herself and her fucked-up son. So, one day, she opened up my laptop and looked up various middle schools.

We decided that I could make it at school, so long as I kept to myself, making sure nobody interacted with me. Lonely? Sure. Potentially dangerous? Yeah. But did we have any other plausible options? No way. Mom wouldn’t let me stay home alone for days while she worked crazy hours. I needed an education that wouldn’t mean paying for a babysitter or a teacher to come to our place. 

The good news was that, since my homeschool education somehow was a bit advanced for kids my age, I could be in an advanced class. We hoped that meant a few people so I could avoid my stupid curse. 

Turns out, an advanced class doesn’t mean three smart kids who keep to themselves and do independent work or some fantasy I believed in. Nope. 

There were twenty of us. The good news is that I was able to successfully avoid speaking, let alone befriending anyone. All I had to do was have a meltdown every day about something dumb, and everyone pinned me as the freak and avoided me.

Then, I got to high school.

Freshman, sophomore, and junior year, I kept my head down. Didn’t speak up. I didn’t have meltdowns anymore because that was a one-way ticket to being tripped in the halls and stuffed in lockers, or at least according to the crazy teen dramas I watched on TV to prepare myself for what school would be like.

A month before senior year started, I thought to myself, ‘fuck being lonely. Nobody is gonna love me, and even if someone does, what if I don’t feel the same? It’s better to die on purpose, then accidentally, and at the expense of someone’s heartbreak, right?” So, I got a job as an apprentice park ranger. That was safe. The only people around were thirty and forty-year-olds, so no love was gonna happen there. Still, I knew I couldn’t handle another year of loneliness. I just couldn’t handle it. I did what any screwed-up teen would do. I picked an oak and climbed up.

And boy, did I climb. I didn’t stop. Any doubtful thought in my head, any twitch of regret, I swallowed it down. I pushed away my exhaustion, too, just powered through it. I knew I’d be able to rest once I died, right? Right. So I kept going.

Once I got to the top, I took a deep breath. This was it. I could finally be free of that fucking mystery curse. Finally. With a short apology to my mom, I stood with shaky legs on the branch and closed my eyes, ready to fly.

Unfortunately, (well, my mom claims it’s fortunate), I only broke my arm. So much for that, right?

I didn’t try again. (I literally couldn’t, it’s almost impossible to climb with only one good arm.)

And then senior year came around. Turns out, I wasn’t the only freak around.

Whispers in the halls spoke of some boy named Connor Murphy. Connor Murphy the freak. Connor Murphy the school shooter. Connor Murphy the fuck-up. 

I never in a million years would have suspected that I would meet a school celebrity. But I did. It was the first week of the school year when we first interacted. 

He came up to me and asked if he could sign my cast. What harm could that do, right? So I broke rule number one of being cursed. Don’t let people interact with you. In big letters, he signed his name. ‘CONNOR’, the name of the only other freak in school, right there on my broken arm.

Next thing I knew, we had our first conversation. Then a second. A third. A fourth. A fifth. 

I told myself to let go, to forget about what was getting me down. With him, I could let loose. I didn’t have to worry about anything. No more curse to plague my mind. I was free.

And that brings us to today. Early June. We have known each other for over eight months now. 

The two of us are sitting in his backyard, on a little bench swing his dad had put together and hung from a large birch tree years ago. Connor is smoking, as usual, and I’m reading. It’s abnormally cold today, so he let me wear his sweatshirt. It’s big on me, but I don’t mind. It’s comfortable. I lean against his shoulder, underlining the sun-dappled sentences with my fingers as I go along. The smell of pot smoke circles around us, but after months of hanging out with him, I think I’ve stopped being bothered by it.

God, I can’t hold it in any longer. I gently set down my book, and nudge Connor, prompting him to turn around and face me. He gives me a very stoned smile, unfocused, and totally blissed-out. 

“C-Connor, um…” I fidget with the cuffs of his sweater. “D-Do you, um, m-maybe, like, um, want t-to, uh, go to the, um, p-prom? W-with me?” I manage to stutter out, absolutely terrified.

He doesn’t verbally respond, and just nods. Now, any sane person would realise that this was  _ not  _ a definite ‘yes’. This could mean practically anything. But I’m not a sane person. I’m a very stupid person in love.

Leaning in, clenching my fists, I lightly touch my lips to his, tasting the pot smoke on his lips.

He kisses back, messily, but kisses me back all the same.

My heart is going to leap out of my chest with happiness. 

_ I’m so happy right now _ .

\---

-Prom night-

I hold Connor close to me as we dance in the dark and neon room, along with our teenage peers. A ‘Senior Prom’ banner hangs awkwardly from one wall, only pinned up by the very end of ‘prom’. Pitchers of water and Coke are here and there, some of them are most definitely spiked. Other kids are outside drinking their own alcohol, others smoking, some even getting quite handsy with each other. 

However, Connor and I are just here with each other. We’re happy. I’m happy.

It’s been two weeks of us dating now, and I love every day with him. It’s just… wonderful.

I tilt my head up, putting a hand on his cheek. “Connor, I…” I bite my lip nervously. “I l-love you.”

“I love you, too,” he replies quietly.

As soon as the words leave his lips, I feel a sharp pain in my head, and I begin to feel faint. I let go of him and stumble backward in pain and fear.  _ What is happening to me? _ And then it’s like my eyes opened up after a year of being squeezed shut.  _ How could I forget that goddamned curse? No… no.. this means…  _

I look back at Connor with horror and betrayal as he helplessly reaches for me.  _ He lied. He doesn’t love me. I’m.. I’m going to die _ .

I begin to cry, but the tears feel thicker. I touch a finger to my cheek and pull it away to see the tip of it covered in blood. My vision begins to blur.

“Evan? Evan, what’s happening?” Connor grabs my arm, keeping me from falling over. “Someone call 911!” He hollers, his eyes tearing up. “H-hey, stay with me, c’mon… Evan!”

“Y-you were supp-supposed.. to.. I wasn’t su-supposed to fall in love, b-but I did, an-and you didn’t, oh my god, I-I’m so sorry..”  _ I should be upset, but I’m really just mad at myself for allowing myself to fall for him. Now he’s going to be in pain because of me _ . 

Connor catches me right before I topple to the ground, and he gently lowers me onto his legs as he sits on the filthy floor. “Hey.. sh…” he strokes my hair. “Oh, god, Ev.”

I clutch the front of his button-down shirt and cry into it, forgetting for a moment that I’m getting it all bloody. “I-I’m so scared, Connie!” I whimper, looking up at him through blurred eyes. “I don’t, I don’t want to die! P-please don’t let me die..”

I’m suddenly pulled away by medics and they lift me onto a stretcher. “Connor!” I reach for him, and he takes my hands. 

I’m carried to the back of an ambulance, sobbing, the blood hurting my eyes, only making me cry more. My head feels like it’s on fire. 

They allow Connor to come into the back of the ambulance with me, and he holds my hand as medics look over me. I can’t get better. They don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m gonna die. For the first time in my life, I’m scared of dying and leaving him and my mom behind.  _ Wait, where’s my mom? _

“M-my mom,” I whisper pleadingly at Connor, hoping he understands. 

“She’s coming,” he assures me. “She’ll be at the hospital, you’ll see her soon, just h-hold on, okay? Just hold on.”

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you,” I say to him apologetically. “It- it just happened, and now, now I’m gonna die because of it… fuck, I don’t wanna, I don’t wanna die!”

He kisses my hand, and presses it to his chest. “You’re not, okay? You won’t. I won’t let you…”

_ Why couldn’t you just love me back? _

He doesn’t know what he’s talking about anyway. He’s going to think I died from some weird brain thing or whatever the doctors will tell him. It’s easier than ‘he died from a curse of unknown origin where if he falls in love with someone who doesn’t love him back, then he dies’, even if that would be withholding the truth.

Who even knows what to say as final words? In this case, ‘I love you’ is far too inappropriate, and ‘goodbye’ is just dumb. Well, who says I have to say anything?

I reach up to gently touch his face, then wipe away some of his tears, smiling meekly. Once I close my eyes, the pain is gone. 

I’m free.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, this was really angsty.. sorry. Argh. 
> 
> Anyway, still taking oneshot requests, so, yeah. Whatever you want, you got it.
> 
> -Jare


End file.
